


What Matters

by Arcwin



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Declarations Of Love, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fae Jaskier | Dandelion, First Kiss, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Takes Care of Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:47:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23995507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcwin/pseuds/Arcwin
Summary: Geralt gets a surprise after Jaskier saves him from a spooked, runaway Roach, and it spurs some much needed conversation between the two.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 302





	1. Chapter 1

“Humanity can fuck right off.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Geralt stared at his companion, who wasn’t bothering to look in his direction as they walked through the woods. The sun shone through the tops of the trees, dappling the earth beneath them and casting imperfect shadows of leaves all over Jaskier’s shoulders and chestnut brown hair. They had been walking since dawn, both eager to leave the shit hole they’d been stuck in for the past two weeks as Geralt hunted the creature plaguing the townspeople every night by eating all their livestock. 

“You’re just cranky because the alderman tried to stiff you out of some coin,” Jaskier added, finally glancing in the direction of the witcher. 

Geralt again remained silent, as he was wont to do.  _ Let him argue with the air around us for all I care.  _ Roach snorted purposefully beside him, then shook her head with enough force that she knocked into Geralt. Next to him, Jaskier continued.

“I mean, he was a boorish man who frankly didn’t deserve such generous service from us even with the coin he paid us once you threatened him. You can’t judge the whole of humanity on the actions of a single asshole.”

Roach sniffed again, her hooves faltering on the path. Geralt stopped walking and held a hand up to silence the bard, who didn’t notice. 

“Take  _ me _ , for example. I am an  _ excellent  _ human, as we both know, and I have offered so much to both you and my multitudes of fans across the continent, not to mention my many, many lovers, and--”

“Shut up,” Geralt whispered loudly, snatching at his companion’s jacket to stop him. 

“Oof!  _ Geralt _ , what--”

The witcher glared at Jaskier and yanked him down into a crouch next to the horse, pulling him close. “ **Sh** !” he whispered loudly, hand twisted up in the fabric of Jaskier’s coat. The bard stumbled, losing his balance, and plopped down onto his ass. 

Geralt stared out into the forest, searching for whatever it was that had Roach upset. He released Jaskier while turning around, continuing to scan the trees. Above them, Roach whinnied softly and snorted, yanking her head against the reins in Geralt’s fist. He reached a flat, reassuring hand up to her side, but the moment he touched her she reared up on her hind legs. Before he could cast something to calm her down, she took off in a gallop down the path, dragging him with her as the lead was still wrapped around his fist. 

As he bounced around behind her, trying to get his feet under him, Geralt watched the diminutive form of Jaskier, eyes wide with shock, as he stared at them both. The witcher tried, once again in vain, to get his feet under him, but to no avail. Roach was unstoppable, and the only hope he had of escaping was to get his hand disentangled from the reins. He swung his other arm up, attempting to grasp at his trapped wrist, but he kept missing the mark. On his fourth try, he noticed the flash of something iridescent in his periphery, but it barely registered as his body slammed into a rock on the path with a  _ crack _ of broken bone. Crying out in pain, Geralt once more tried to get his free hand up, but the path changed course and he felt himself swing wide as Roach avoided a massive tree. 

The last thing he saw before blacking out was the dark brown trunk hurtling toward him. He didn’t bother saying a prayer. He knew it didn’t matter.

* * *

Geralt’s head throbbed as if he’d spent the entire night in a tavern drinking. The taste in his mouth said otherwise, still coppery from the blood of his split lip and loose tooth. Slowly, so slowly, he let his eyes slide open, then shut them immediately as the sunshine multiplied his headache tenfold. He groaned and brought a hand to rub at his face, then groaned louder as his side ached. 

“Hold it, Geralt, you’re  _ hurt _ , stop--no, really, Geralt,  _ stop _ before you--” Jaskier’s hands were on him, pressing his shoulders back down to the leaf covered ground beneath him.

“Jaskier,” the Witcher grumbled. 

“I got Roach to stop, _ you’re welcome _ , after she nearly dragged you to your death, I’ll have you know,” Jaskier replied, his hands brushing idly against Geralt’s cheek, fingertips tender as they touched his swollen lip. “Once you feel up to it, we should head to the creek and get some cool stones for your face. You’re a mess, to be honest,” he added, eyes roving over Geralt’s bruised and battered features. He tutted to himself, patted the witcher on the shoulder, and plopped down next to him, sitting cross-legged.

The leaves rustled as Jaskier moved, and Geralt slid the eye closest to him open. Jaskier’s hair was disheveled and his jacket askew as he stared off into the distant trees, expression blank. In the back of his jacket were two long rips, starting at his shoulders and reaching down to his kidneys. As Geralt gazed at his friend, he felt a familiar prickle on the back of his neck that something was awry, though he couldn’t quite place what it was. He scanned the treeline behind Jaskier just to be careful, though his extrasensory vision didn’t find anything out of place. 

He lay still for a while, waiting for his headache to subside. When it refused, he gave up, tired of running his tongue over the swelling lump in his mouth.

Grumbling, the injured man rolled to his side and pushed up. Jaskier startled out of his dissociative trance and turned to help him, hands strong despite their delicate appearance. With assistance, Geralt got to his feet, Jaskier’s arm wrapped around his waist for support. 

“Ready for the cool stones, then?” the bard asked, looking up at the witcher through his lashes. The sunlight streamed down around them, enveloping Jaskier in a halo of golden light. He looked ethereal, and the back of Geralt’s neck prickled yet again. Glancing over his shoulder, he allowed Jaskier to lead him to the banks of the creek. He plopped down on a fallen log while Jaskier fished around in the shallows for a large, flat river stone. “Here,” he said as he handed it over and stood with his hands on his hips, watching.

The stone was much cooler than Geralt expected, and he winced as it touched his skin. 

“Keep it on,” Jaskier scolded, laying his hand over Geralt’s to press the stone onto his split lip.

With a growl, the witcher complied. Once Jaskier was convinced Geralt wouldn’t remove the stone, he turned to crouch down, searching for another one to fish from the river. Geralt stared at the rips in Jaskier’s jacket. Something about them seemed… off.

“Jaskier,” Geralt finally said quietly. “Your jacket is torn.”

Still squatting, Jaskier stiffened, hand stilling in the water. He was quiet for a moment, then nodded once. “Yes, another reason you owe me. Not only did I save your life and stop your horse, but my  _ beloved _ cornflower blue jacket is ruined. Lucky for you I know the tailor who made it and I  _ may _ be able to--”

“How did you do it?” Geralt interrupted, pulling the stone away from his mouth. 

Jaskier turned slowly and frowned. “ _ Do what? _ ” he asked, his voice slightly higher than its usual pitch. 

“How did you save me? I’ve never even seen you run unless it’s to run  _ away _ from something, Jaskier.”

The bard flicked the water from his hands and stood, then shrugged at Geralt and walked towards him with a stone. He placed his hand on Geralt’s, taking the now warm stone away, and replaced it with the cooler one. The witcher stared up at Jaskier, who was again haloed by the sun high above him. “You always have something to say, and yet now you remain silent. What are you keeping from me, Jas?”

“Geralt, don’t,” Jaskier said, eyes piercing as he gazed, unblinking, at the man. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

Geralt sighed, continuing to stare up at his friend. “Nothing surprises me in my old age, Jaskier.”

Jaskier scoffed. “Old age?” Eyes soft, he chuckled, hand still over Geralt’s, ensuring the stone stayed against Geralt’s swollen lip. “Right. Cause all old men look as handsome as you do at this point in their lives,” he muttered, releasing Geralt’s hand to brush a few stray white strands of hair out of his face. He cupped Geralt’s cheek in a tender gesture.

It, ironically, caught the witcher by surprise. His eyebrows shot up as his eyes widened, and the hand holding the stone dropped down to his lap. Jaskier smiled, then dropped his hand to grab at Geralt’s, bringing the cool stone up to his face again. 

“You’re warming it up too much with your big hot hands, Geralt. Give it here and I’ll swap it for a cooler one,” he chided, fingers dipped into the palm of Geralt’s hand to wrap around the stone. 

“Mm.”

Above them, the birds chirped merrily in the treetops, flitting from branch to branch as they chased each other in the throes of Autumn harvesting for winter. Jaskier skipped the stone across the river. It hopped five times, then landed with a splash and sunk to the lightly racing depths below. Again Geralt stared at the rips in the back of his jacket, noticing that the threads hung loosely outwards, as if something had pushed through the fabric from the inside. 

He waited, taking the stone from his companion with a sharp-toothed smile of gratitude. “You impress me, Jas,” he complimented, hand closing around Jaskier’s wrist before the man could pull away. “So many talents, and though we’ve been traveling together for years it seems you still have some tricks up your sleeves that even  _ I’m _ not privy to.” Geralt looked up at the man, noting the pink blush that spread across his cheeks. He dropped his voice and added, “Thank you.” The blush continued down Jaskier’s neck, reddish splotches appearing on his skin around his collarbones. 

Jaskier’s round eyes grew, his mouth falling open like a fish out of water as he gazed down at Geralt in shock. “I, um, well, yes, Geralt, you’re... _ welcome _ ?” he stammered. His free hand waved frantically around as he talked, clearly searching for something to do. It finally settled on his hip, long fingers splayed as his fingertips pressed into the fabric of his breeches, turning white. 

Geralt pulled down on Jaskier’s wrist, causing him to stoop closer. “You don’t need to keep secrets from me, bard,” he murmured, voice barely above a growl. 

With his mouth snapped shut, Jaskier swallowed, nodding, as the witcher released his wrist. He stood, looking as if he might say something, but thought the better of it. Instead, he reached down and took the now warm stone, then turned and hurled it into the river. 

“Your lip looks better,” he muttered as he stomped stiffly back towards the path.


	2. Chapter 2

As night fell, the pair stopped their trek to find a suitable campground for the night. They were much too far from any known settlements to actually book a room in an inn, and the weather was comfortable enough for them to sleep outside. Geralt was able to get a fire started quickly, the fallen tree branches around them exceptionally dry from the weeks of hot summer weather at the end of August. A cool breeze danced through the forest, picking up the beginnings of the aroma of rotting leaves as it passed around them and moved on to the west. The sky above them was clear, which was a relief considering how fickle the weather could be in this time of year. No thunderstorms tonight, thankfully. 

Geralt glanced over at Jaskier, who was standing near Roach. He shrugged out of his jacket, and the witcher was surprised to see the back of his tunic mirrored the rips along his back. He stood, realizing that anything sharp enough to cut through two layers of fabric would likely cause serious wounds to Jaskier, and picked his way lightly through the underbrush to his friend.

“Jaskier,” he murmured, his hand coming up to settle on the bard’s shoulder blade. 

“Yes?” he squeaked, startled. 

“Let me look at your back.”

“No!” Jaskier twirled to face Geralt. “Wait,  _ why _ ?” he demanded with a suspicious frown.

Geralt sighed. “You might be injured,” he explained as he reached again for the bard, attempting to turn him around. 

Jaskier shook his head adamantly, twisting his body away. “I assure you, I am  _ not _ .” 

“Jaskier, just--” the witcher growled, finally catching hold of his companion. 

“Geralt, let go of me, I’m fine, I promise, I’m not--”

The pair stumbled over a fallen log in their scuffle, Jaskier’s hands swinging wildly around until he caught Geralt’s tunic. As he swayed off balance, a pair of nearly invisible, silken wings appeared behind him, flapping enough to steady them both. Their feet firmly planted, Geralt’s yellow eyes widened as he stared behind his friend at the delicate wings, shocked.

Jaskier’s eyes also grew to the size of saucers. He released Geralt’s shirt and backed away quickly, palms out as he stumbled over himself into the woods. “Geralt, I swear, I can explain, I’m not… well, I guess I am, but…  **_fuck_ ** , this isn’t how I wanted this to go,” he snapped, more to himself than anything. 

Geralt said nothing. He only stared. 

The bard stopped backing away until his face was nearly shrouded in the rapidly darkening shadows of the forest. Geralt watched him, hearing the hammering of his heart across the span between them, and turned several comments over in his mind. He couldn’t find the right words to say, so he settled on the ones that kept repeating themselves instead.

“You’re a fae.”

In the gloom he could see Jaskier’s hands as he threw them into the air with a scoff before they landed on his hips in irritation. The man kept switching between a piercing stare and looking away completely, as if he couldn’t figure out if he was mad or scared. 

“ _ Both _ , you arse,” Jaskier replied sarcastically.

Geralt blinked.  _ Did he just-- _

“ _ Yes _ . Gods, you have no idea how hard I have to work to keep my mouth shut all the time around you! You say hardly anything but it’s because you’re  _ always _ thinking, it’s not even fair! Half the time I can’t tell if it came out of your mouth, but then again if it’s not a  _ hmm _ or something rude I suppose it’s easy enough to figure it out,” Jaskier rambled on, irritated. 

Geralt blinked again, then shook his head. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“As if you could,” Jaskier muttered with a smirk as he started picking his way back through the brush. 

“I can hear you,” Geralt commented. 

“I don’t care.”

“Hmm.”

As Jaskier emerged from the darkness, his wings flapped once before they folded down and disappeared entirely. He stopped a few feet from the witcher, who was eyeing him curiously, so he turned a circle. “See? Gone.”

He brushed past Geralt and went back to rummaging in his pack next to Roach, pulling from it an intact shirt to change into. The witcher watched, unashamed, as Jaskier tugged at the bottom of his shirt until it was untucked, then began yanking it up over his head. There was no evidence of the wings he had seen, and for a moment he began to doubt his own eyes. 

“They’re real,” Jaskier mumbled through his shirt before he pulled it off completely and rolled it into a ball. He shoved it into his pack, then stood to face Geralt with his other shirt in his hands.

Geralt kept his thoughts as quiet as he could. “I don’t like this,” he grumbled, then turned to work on the fire.

“I can ignore them,” Jaskier said from behind him. “I ignore most people most of the time. Otherwise I’d go completely mad. Can you imagine me in a market if I could hear all of the inane mutterings of the bartering and begging? The bitching about the prices and the moaning about the heat? Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, joining Geralt at the fire with his lute.

“Ignore them?” Geralt asked as he leaned kindling against the insides of the criss-cross of small logs he had stacked in the clearing. 

Jaskier nodded. “It makes you uncomfortable,” he said quietly. He plopped down, fingers picking out a gentle and recognizable tune. Geralt couldn’t place the name of it, but he found himself humming along as they sat next to the slowly catching fire. 

The breeze rustled along in the trees above them, blowing a few stray leaves down in a shower around the clearing. Several landed on the fire, crinkling and curling until they finally burst into flame, pulling yellow-orange fingers up around the logs. As the logs popped and crackled, Jaskier continued playing, his knee knocking into Geralt’s each time he swayed close. Eventually, through his rocking, Jaskier shifted close enough that his knee stayed pinned to Geralt’s.

Dusk began falling around them. Crickets chirped in the slowly darkening forest, hiding beneath fallen logs and piles of dead leaves. Geralt’s stomach rumbled, but he lingered next to the bard. He dared not wonder about what he had seen, lest Jaskier’s promise of privacy be false. He had heard stories about fae--tricksters, manipulators, only after short-term desires before they grew bored and cast them aside. He feared he might fall into that category if he wasn’t careful, and there was no guarantee his heart could take it. He’d been at the mercy of an easily bored, manipulative magical being before, and he wasn’t interested in doing it again.

Next to him, Jaskier shifted yet closer, not hiding it in his rhythmic rocking any longer. Their sides pressed together, the smaller man squirming in search of warmth. Geralt threw another log on the fire, and instead of pinning his arm back between them, he wrapped it around Jaskier’s shoulders. 

Sighing contentedly, the bard relaxed, never once breaking his tune. They sat for a long time, Geralt curled around Jaskier while the both of them hummed along with his music. The wind whistled through the trees above them. Geralt let his head fall back, glancing up at the cloudless sky above them. Specks of starlight twinkled, shining through the black tree branches down at them. He didn’t fight the urge to smile, his shoulders drooping as he relaxed.

“Geralt,” Jaskier murmured, his fingers stilling on the strings.

“Hmm?” 

“Does it bother you?”

Geralt’s smile faded. He looked down at the top of the bard’s chestnut brown head, his eyes involuntarily raking down Jaskier's wingless back. 

“Of course not,” Geralt murmured.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Jaskier whispered, looking up at the witcher. “I should have told you.” He began plucking again at the strings of his instrument, filling the thick, silent air around them with some semblance of lightheartedness. 

Geralt frowned. “Why didn’t you?”

The music stopped. Jaskier pulled away, forcing Geralt’s arm to drop down to his side. He stared into the fire, not blinking, and sighed heavily. “I was afraid. You’re a witcher, Geralt. A hunter of great beasts that terrorize the countryside. A man whose destiny and purpose is to protect humanity. And fae, well...they aren’t known for their kindness, that’s for damn sure.” He set the lute down on the ground next to him, then clasped his hands behind his head and looked up at the sky. “Why would you ever want to be associated with something like that?” he mumbled, voice wavering. 

Geralt snorted loudly, drawing Jaskier’s startled face so their eyes met.

“Something funny about all this, great witcher?”

The corner of Geralt’s lips drew up into a smirk. “Since when do I care about kindness and decency, especially towards humans? They are a means to an end for me. Monsters kill them, I kill monsters, they pay me, I buy ale and food and move on.”

Jaskier stared, considering his companion, then nodded slowly. “And what about  _ befriending _ said monsters? Have you ever considered that?”

Geralt shook his head, lips pressed firmly together. “It’s not possible to be friends with a monster.”

“Oh,” Jaskier breathed, then turned his face back up to the stars. In front of them, the fire crackled, a log popping and hissing as sap bubbled out of a crack in the wood. They sat like that for a few moments, the sounds of the dark forest blending with those of the fire, before Jaskier grabbed his lute and stood.

“I’ll just go, then.”

Geralt stood too, snatching at Jaskier’s free hand. “Jas,” he said softly, so softly the bard nearly didn’t hear it. “What are you doing?”

Jaskier turned to face the witcher, eyes shining and red at the corners. “I understand, Geralt. It’s,” he paused, bringing his arm up to wipe at his nose with his sleeve. “It’s fine, really.”

“Jas,  _ stop _ ,” Geralt growled, pulling Jaskier closer. He wrapped his arm around the bard’s waist, drawing their bodies close enough that they nearly touched chests. “Don’t ignore me,” he murmured as he stared down at the fae in his arms, who nodded as a tear slid down his cheek.

_ You are an idiot but an idiot in all the best ways. I cannot imagine my life without you by my side. You are so much more than whatever you think you are, so much more to me and to the world, fae or not. I have seen your soul and I know that it is the match to my own. It’s true you cannot befriend monsters, because monsters don’t have a soul, and they cannot make me feel what I feel when I am around you. I may not be able to say these words aloud to you, but know that they are true.  _

The tears flowed more freely down Jaskier’s face as he stared up at Geralt, eyes wide after listening to his inner monologue and confession. He swallowed thickly, his body trembling in Geralt’s arms.

“You are not a monster, Jaskier.”

“Neither are you.”

It happened faster than either of them could process, and looking back, it’s doubtful that either of them could remember who even started it. Their lips pressed softly together in a closed mouth kiss that was more about the symbolism than the actual act. Geralt released Jaskier’s hand and brought it up to cradle the base of his skull as they kissed, holding him steady and safe. Jaskier sighed, the tension leaving his body, and let Geralt support him. They broke apart and Geralt rested his forehead against the bard’s, looking down into those icy blue eyes. 

“Please don’t go, Jaskier,” he whispered. “It matters not to me whatever you might be on the outside. What I know is that inside here,” he brought a hand to rest flat on Jaskier’s chest over his heart. “is what matters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"I’ve seen enough," he says, "I know exactly what I want  
>  And it’s this life that we’ve created  
> Inundated with the fated thought of you  
> And if you asked me to, if you asked me I would lose it all  
> Like petals in a storm  
> 'Cause darling I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades  
> At night when light is fading  
> Just to let you know I’m old, waylaid and feels like I am wading  
> Into carpet burns and carousels  
> Christ, you’ll be the death of me,"  
> And calm throughout his melodrama, she will turn and say  
> "Dear heart, it’s me, it's me  
> You don’t need to pretend to be someone you’re not  
> 'Cause it’s not like I’ve never heard you fart and snore  
> And for some godforsaken reason  
> I’m still here, love, like I’ve always been before..." _
> 
> ”Fair” The Amazing Devil


End file.
